For questioning creation,

maybe this is it.
maybe it really is what we think it is,
and that's what keeps us on the edge of our seats;
anticipating what we already expect.
why? how?
constant questions we know the answer to.
isn't it strange, you know, how things came to be this way.
one consistant quarrel in my head is the wonder of why I am me, and not someone else.
why this body,
this brain,
this heart?
can it really be luck of the draw when I was created, and when every other walking creature was?
even as an agnostic,
i'm stuck, contemplating possibilities of who's in charge of all of this?
was I made with the intention of being this way, of accomplishing these things?
is this too much analyzation,
or too little thought put into a catastrophic idea?
i wonder if this is it,
and if this life is just a fragment of something our minds will never have the ability to comprehend.
i don't know how to live in the moment,
because i don't know what is the moment,
and when the next one is coming,
or even when this one ends.